Drenched

There's no better way to unwind than with a nice, hot bath.

My skin tingles and I feel a warm, heavy throbbing between my legs the second I turn on the tap and hear the water rushing against the smooth porcelain of the deep bathtub. Baths, for me, are a regular thing. I savor the passing moments while my body slides inch by inch into the hot, nearly scalding water before my once dry, now pinkish skin, slips beneath a snowy cloud of bubbles.

For at least a half an hour, maybe more, I soak. Unless I decide to stretch my back and legs out, I barely move. I might rest my foot against the ledge and stare while the water carves little chasms and valleys into the sudsy tufts, dripping back to the fragrant soapy depths. When I'm finished, I reach for the showerhead. I bring it close to me, to the space between my legs, and let the rain-like deluge pulse against my clitoris until my body tenses while the sensation of an earth-shattering climax drags me out with the same lapping cadence of ocean waves.

I've masturbated like this for years. I mostly prefer my bed, in the dark of night, when the world sleeps. But I can't deny the satisfaction of a climax after a steamy, hot bath. There's nothing like the feeling of hot water, surrounding me--suspending me--and the knowledge that when I'm finished, I stumble away exhausted, spent, and clean.

Bathing, for me, is a ritual. And it must be perfect, or as close to perfect, every time. Bubble bath is a must. I prefer the floral scents; bright and beautiful. Exotic scented bath oil, candles, and a few natural sponges are always within reach and neatly arranged. The showerhead is attached to the tiled wall with a sturdy bracket. It's a three-speed adjustable with pulse massage setting and a hose long enough to reach wherever I may be.

I've been with a few women and dated only two long term. Strangely enough, I've never asked any of them if they'd like to join me in the tub. I guess I've never given much thought either into how any of them might've reacted if I did. Baths are something people take to get clean. Oh, a few see it as a way to unwind after a hard day at the office, but how many would see their bathtub as a sacred place?

The first time my new lover said she liked her women wet, it barely registered. I thought she meant between their legs. A smile spread across her lips and she said something about being naked and soaked in water. "I love water." She said. "Rainstorms, sprinklers, pools, showers and baths. Being alone with another woman under the shower, or in a bathtub--"

She had my undivided attention, and then she abruptly stopped. Did she say she loved showers and baths? I couldn't believe I wasn't hearing things. "You stopped." I said. "You were going to say something else. Go on. I want to hear it." Her mouth stretched across her face in a strained smile. She picked up her coffee and paused before drinking. "You're sure?" I nodded and tried to contain my mounting excitement as she told me about her past lovers and how they'd tussle under a spitting showerhead, tossing projectiles of suds and water drops everywhere. Sometimes the scene was her bathtub, or the pool at a friend's house. Just her and her lover, alone and wet. She said there was nothing better than a soaking young beauty with hair dripping in wet tendrils over her bare shoulders and back.

We'd been seeing each other for a couple of months when she brought me this beautiful book on the history of Roman Baths. I quickly developed an obsession for the picture of the Baths at Caracalla painted by Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema, and I couldn't look at it without picturing us together in the waters of the tepidarium and caldarium, drenched. Several days later she left my house early for work while I was still asleep. When I woke up I saw a note she'd left on the nightstand under the lamp that said: I need you naked and wet.

I don't remember how much time passed, maybe a week, or a little more. It was Saturday.

She was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper when I went into the bathroom, lit a few candles, and turned on the tap. I picked my prize Victorian Rose scented bubble bath and stared at the clear pink drizzle. It hit the swirling hot water and started to foam. I'd opened a new bar of rosewater soap and reached for a large porous sponge that looked vaguely like an ancient pottery shard. Images of Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema's women, lounging intimately and sharing untold secrets, filled my mind with lust as I slipped out of my clothes. What secrets will we share today, my lover and I? I put on my long silk robe and gave the bathroom an approving look. The space was warm with the smell of soap and roses in full bloom.

I went back to the kitchen where she was. She'd folded the newspaper and pushed it aside. I could tell right away she'd been waiting for me. "I'm going to have a bath." I said, trying to sound casual about it. "You can watch if you want, or..." I paused, tugging at the sash tied loosely around my waist. "You can join me."

Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed before getting up. She pressed her mouth firmly against mine. The strong smell of black coffee lingered between us. "I think you know already what I'd like." She kissed me again and gently turned my head to the side and whispered, "I heard the water running and I was hoping you'd ask." I shuddered noticeably when I felt the painful surge of electric prickling down the back of my neck while the flesh around my nipples pebbled and tightened.

"Wait a minute, okay?" I pulled away from her hold. I could feel her eyes on me as I left the room.

The bathtub had filled almost to the top now, and the bubbles formed voluminous, soft peaks. Perfect. I turned the knobs off and slipped a foot into the searing water. It took several minutes to acclimate to the heat. I took my foot out now and opened my robe, letting it slide off my shoulders and back. It tumbled to the floor in a crinkled pile of blushing pink silk. I left it there and stepped in the tub before sinking back. My head plunged beneath the mass of fragrant sudsy peaks, soaking my long dark locks. I thought for a second or two how I wanted her to see me. I leaned back again with my head resting against the back ledge. My hair snaked in dark wet tendrils over my small shoulders and my nipples glistened with a mass of water droplets and creamy white foam.

My strong butch lover opened the door and my stomach did a little flip as she stood there staring at me. The only sound was a few stray drips from the tap and her deep exhalation. She stood there in the doorway, silent, for what seemed like an eternity, watching me. "Never thought I'd have a date with a mermaid." She said.

Corny.

I looked down, away from her, trying to hide the grin spreading across my face. She came over and sank to her knees beside the tub. She reached forward, taking me in her arms, and pulled me up against her. She didn't seem to notice, or care, that her clothes were soaked down the front. She kissed me tenderly, and my lips parted, allowing her tongue to enter, while the water swooshed around us. Her large hands went to my head, fingers burrowing in the steamy wet strands. "Oh, God." She moaned softly as we shared another languid kiss. When we broke away, she leaned back and peeled off her V-neck sweater, soaked through to the light blue button down shirt underneath. She took this off too, wearing only a plain white bra, as she re-adjusted her kneeling position on the floor.

She reached over and grabbed the sponge in the corner. She submerged it in the water and held it over my head, squeezing it. A deluge of hot, soapy water rained over my head, neck and shoulders. Water runneled in tiny forked streams, sweeping the bubbles off my skin. She pushed my hair aside, exposing my neck, and kissed me while another torrent ran over my shoulders. Large drops glimmered diamond-like, trembling, from my nipples. She soaked the sponge again and squeezed it out. I was on fire watching her watching me. Both of us were soaking wet.

I handed her the bar of rosewater soap. She lathered it up with the sponge and her hands before getting to me. Starting with my neck, she methodically ran her soapy hands over me until every muscle in my body tensed and ached for her. She massaged my breasts in soft, easy circles while I lay against the back of the tub. She lifted my legs out of the water and, starting with my toes, worked her way upwards to my inner thigh with small kneading rubs. She'd do this for a bit and finished by rinsing me off with painstaking gentleness.

She coaxed me up to my knees now. The water ran off me as she pressed her mouth against my breasts, kissing, and sucking first my left, then right nipple before switching back. My slender wet body pressed against her mannish middle-aged frame. We fit together perfectly. I noticed right away; like two puzzle pieces. I put my arm around her neck and held tight while the water ran down her back.

"Will you wash my hair?" I asked. She nodded and kissed me. The tub is large and deep enough for the both of us to fit comfortably. I turned with my back facing her while she reached for the shampoo. She turned the bottle over, taking some, before rubbing her palms together. Her work-rough hands returned to my scalp. Her fingers burrowed into my hair, lathering up the long tresses. Thick, rose-fragrant streams fell down my back into the water. "God, you're so beautiful." She moaned softly.

She spent several minutes lathering up my hair while the suds built, swelled, and broke in large clumps around us. Her forearms were coated in foam as she reached around and cupped my breasts with her large sudsy hands. She kissed my shoulder, lightly pinching my soapy nipples between her forefinger and thumb. I could feel the small swells of her breasts, still imprisoned in her now waterlogged bra, grazing my back as she showered me with a flurry of kisses. She pushed my head down slowly and rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. I closed my eyes while the water poured over my head, and I heard her breath quickening. When she was done I flipped my head back, and water splashed across the room, hitting the rough features of her face. She laughed and kissed me again. "My little mermaid!" She said.

"I'm done." I said, standing up. I reached for a towel when she stopped me.

"We're not finished yet." She said, pushing me back. I sat back and stared quizzically, while she pulled the drain. "I want to hear my mermaid sing."

As dumb as that sounded, I knew right away what she meant. "Relax." She said, coaxing me to lay back while the water receded. She commanded me to spread my legs apart and I did. I hooked a shaking knee against the side of the tub. Her eyes were on me. Boring down, taking me in. Trails of bubbles and water formed on my body as the tub emptied out.

She leaned over and reached for the showerhead and my belly tensed up. I lifted one foot and braced it against the wall of the tub, arching my back in anticipation. She smiled faintly, watching me squirm. She turned the water on and ran it across her hand while adjusting the temperature. When she was ready, she ran her free hand along the inside of my thigh and gently grazed my clitoris with her fingertip. I gasped loudly. "Patience." She said. Her voice was deep and curt.

She started at my feet, letting the strong spray of the showerhead spit over my toes and against the sole of my foot. The floor around the tub was soaked, and water was dripping down her arms and chest. She worked her way slowly up my calf to my thigh, pausing to let the pressure pulse against my skin. I wanted to reach out and touch her short graying hair, but my arms were braced against the side of the tub. I could barely breathe when she slowly brought the spray from my thigh to my stomach and chest. The muscles extending from her shoulders and neck twitched with her every move. I closed my eyes and arched my back further while the pulsating stream hit my nipples. She held it there for a bit, watching the water bounce off me in tiny rivulets.

With the same slow precision, she started working her way back down my body, pausing slowly at each juncture. She finally stopped and let the pressure work its way around both my thighs. She placed her left hand squarely in the middle of my chest, pushing and holding me down. "Almost there." She said.

She adjusted her body a little before she slowly brought the stream between my legs. The spitting spray pulsed against my waiting clitoris, and my body started quaking uncontrollably from the sensation. Both of my legs were now braced against the edge of the tub, now almost empty. My body was tensed and pressed back hard as the water sprayed against me. She moved the showerhead back and forth over my pussy, soaking the thick dark carpet of curls modestly hiding my arousal from my lover's salacious gaze.

My body throbbed and the room was spinning above me. I was barely holding on and my breaths came shallow and desperate. I could hear my lover speaking to me, though I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying. I think she was urging me on, but all I could hear was the water from the showerhead and wet splattering against porcelain. "That's it," she said. "Almost there."

My eyes opened wide, suddenly, and the waves came crashing violently over me. She pressed firmly against me with her hand, keeping the pulsing spray directly against my clitoris. Water splashed out of the tub and slopped in streams onto the tiled floor. My body rocked back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. Every muscle in my body, exhausted, released the built up tension until I couldn't move.

The brunt of it passed, but mild tremors continued shooting through my body when she moved to turn the water off. She pushed back, sitting on her butt on the wet bathroom floor. I saw her run a hand through the short locks of her drenched hair. She was still wearing her bra, pants, and loafers, all of which were completely soaked. "Good God, we made a mess in here!" She declared. I nodded and smiled, but said nothing.

I tried to get up, but I still felt pretty dizzy. I struggled to my feet. She got up and grabbed my arm, trying to keep me steady. She turned and reached for the towel I left folded nearby, and wrapped it around me. I glanced at her for a second. Her face was a mask of contentment. With her arm around my shoulders, she steered me to the bedroom. The towel fell to the floor. She tried to dry me off, but it was no use. We were both soaking wet for the rest of the day.

THANK YOU for reading!!